


Bonsai

by dragonflower1



Category: FAKE (Manga)
Genre: Character Study, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-23
Updated: 2013-04-23
Packaged: 2017-12-09 06:19:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/770980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonflower1/pseuds/dragonflower1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the twig is bent, so the tree is shaped. Ryo reflects on his life and his feelings for Dee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bonsai

Ryo’s POV

 

That’s it – I can’t sleep.

I’ve been trying for the past two hours, punching the pillow, pulling up the cotton blanket then pushing it off again. You used that thin excuse about making your commute shorter so you could stay over, and you’re camped out on the sofa - again.

It was another typical evening at the McLean household, starting with me making dinner while you and Bicky traded insults. As usual, Bicky soon retired to his room for an evening of homework and Playstation, while you and I relaxed and chatted about this and that. The evening ended with our semi-regular wrestling match on that very couch: me fending off your advances, even though I wanted you so badly I could taste it - almost giving in, and then completely denying my feelings. Just knowing you’re in the other room makes me restless. I finally throw back the covers in aggravation and head to the kitchen for some water.

On the way back to bed, I hear you make a small sound - a cross between a whimper and a moan. I wander quietly into the living room to check on you. Sound asleep, you shift and turn your back to me, the blanket I gave you slipping slowly to the floor. I pad over to you silently and cover you again. Bare-chested on this cool summer night, I know you won’t sleep well if you’re cold. I don’t know how you can sleep on this horror of a sofa, anyway. It looks great, but it’s damned uncomfortable – that’s why I end up sitting on the floor more often than not. You seem at peace though.

The light of the nearly full moon and the ever-present lights of the city stream in the windows, bathing the darkened room in a soft silvery glow. Moonlight touches your face and hair, turning your cheek milky pale and highlighting your black hair with silver. You remind me of some god of the forest, sexual and masculine. As I hungrily gaze upon you, all of the feelings and sensations from earlier tonight, everything I’ve denied myself, come flooding back.

You are such a feast for the eyes, I can’t resist anymore, and find myself touching you. My fingers ever so lightly trace your jaw. Then gently brush dark strands of hair back from your face – your incredibly handsome face. You’ve told me many times how beautiful I am, and of course, I’ve always brushed it off. What I’ve never been bold enough to tell you is how breathtakingly beautiful you are. I study you in the low light. Your dark lashes against your smooth cheeks – your sensual lips, slack and slightly parted – your brow, smooth for a change and not furrowed with the cares of the day. You look so young and vulnerable. I’m sure not many people get to see Dee Laytner like this.

You moan low in your throat and start to shift again. You can’t wake up now! My heart leaps in my chest as I hunker down next to the sofa, fingers digging into the sisal carpet. Adrenaline pumps through my system and my pulse pounds in my ears. If you awakened right now, what possible excuse could I offer for being crouched at your side like this? You don’t though, but settle into a deeper slumber, face-up now, on the couch.

I should creep away now, ashamed that I’m contemplating molesting you in your sleep, but I’m mesmerized by your profile. My eyes trace the line of your jaw and your neck like my fingers did just moments before. I’m hypnotized by the gentle rise and fall of your lean and muscular chest, by the dusky nipple coyly peeking out from under the edge of the blanket. It begs to be licked and sucked on and bitten just a little. The pulse that previously pounded in my ears now throbs between my legs and I feel myself getting erect. It excites me to be near you, and when you’re asleep I can admit it. I suddenly realize that I’m mere inches from you now, my breath causing your nipple to harden. I forcibly stop myself from lowering my eager lips to your chest.

You may think I’m an innocent, Dee, that before you, I’d never thought of a man ‘in that way’. I’m sure you believe that this is all new territory for me – but as much as I deny it, it’s not. You may be the first man that has ever gotten this close to me, the first one I’ve ever allowed myself to kiss and touch, but you’re not the first man I’ve ever wanted. College – high school – hell, even younger – my crushes have always been on guys. I’m such a mess, though, that I can’t make that move – can’t take that step – I never could. I’ve always been too paralyzed by my own fears and insecurities to do so. My mother instilled those in me right from the beginning.

I think my mother knew I was homosexual from the time I was very small, but kept this knowledge to herself. Wanting me to be happy in a very traditional way, and fearing what she saw in me, she knew what needed to be done.

The Japanese have a love of nature, and strive to live in harmony with it. The other side of this coin, however, is the brutal subjugation of nature to conform to an aesthetic ideal. The art of bonsai is a perfect example of this. The young and tender tree is brutally bound with wire and shaped, then pruned mercilessly to a more pleasing shape. Only then is it allowed to grow, under the ever-watchful eye of the gardener. My mother, who had practiced bonsai since she was a young girl, used these principles on her only son.

Even before I knew what I was about, she let me know in ways both subtle and not so subtle, that my natural tendencies were ‘incorrect’. If I expressed anything that she considered effeminate in any way, she was quick to cut me down. Any affection I may have witnessed between two men while growing up, even casual good-friend affection, my mother let it be known that it was unacceptable. I was constantly pushed into sports and activities that my mother considered ‘manly’. I failed at these over and over, to be railed at by her to try again, and try harder; all this only serving to make me more uncertain and shy.

It wasn’t until I was 11 and got involved in martial arts that I found something I could excel at. Mother was so proud. What she didn’t know, though, was that I loved it because of its flowing and graceful movements, and on a level I didn’t quite understand yet, all the lovely, sweaty men and boys in class. She was always alert when I brought a new friend home. I was systematically kept away from boys that she thought might awaken any unnatural desires in me. Under the guise of a concerned and loving mother, she would only tell me that these boys were a ‘bad influence’ or ‘dangerous’, and it was for my own good. Needless to say, I had few friends.

In spite of all my mother’s hard work, however, my natural affection for my own sex eventually surfaced. Most of the time I was appalled and ashamed for being this way and forced myself to push the feelings down, ignore them, pretend they didn’t exist. Sometimes, though, I would give in and explore what I was going through, and it always felt powerful and right. So I lusted in secret, knowing my mother would be heartbroken - or furious - I wasn’t sure which. I was wracked with guilt, torn between what I wanted with all my heart, and my mother’s approval.

I tried to like girls, I really did. I went to school mixers. Tagged along when there were groups of boys and girls going to the mall together. When I was in high school, I even asked a few girls out on dates. It never worked, though. Their kisses and caresses left me cold. The few times I had managed to respond was if I fantasized that it was my current ‘crush’ I was kissing, whether it be Mr. Spaulding, the new Chemistry teacher, or the captain of the football team (which, by the way, was so cliché even I had to wince). I knew I was the worst son in the world, feeling these things in the face of all my mother had tried to teach me throughout my life.

Then my parents died, murdered by Leo and his gang. I was devastated, and sure on some level that my shameful, sinful behavior had contributed to this tragedy. I couldn’t stop how I felt about other men, but I was determined to try. With fresh resolve, fueled by grief, I sought to reshape myself as Mother had unsuccessfully tried to do for so many years.

My feelings for men were unacceptable and I had no desire for women at all. I decided that if I couldn’t find happiness in the way my mother had wanted, I wouldn’t seek it at all. So I became asexual, an innocent. I strove to forget that I was a sexual being at all. By now I was in college, and being approached by women and men alike. I ignored compliments and passes, pretending I didn’t notice, or that I must have been mistaken. Eventually I didn’t have to pretend anymore. Oh, once in a while some handsome young man would catch my eye, but I always turned away. Being attracted to men had somehow caused bad things to happen in my life and I didn’t want to be hurt anymore.

It was easier to hide than to confront my programming, even though it was a damn sight more unpleasant and very lonely. Over the years I learned to stuff my feelings down inside where even I didn’t see them. Better to have no desire at all than to ache for another man. And it was working too – until I met you. You noticed me, challenged me, and blew away all my defenses.

I knew I was in trouble the minute I met you. You were so damned good-looking you took my breath away. You invaded my personal space almost immediately, and when you raked me up and down with your sexy green eyes, and it was obvious that you liked what you saw, I knew a thrill of fear. I calmed myself quickly with the knowledge that I could easily avoid you in such a large precinct. Wrong. The Chief made us partners, and that little trickle of fear blossomed into full-blown panic. How could I possibly maintain status quo with someone as sexy as you by my side all the time?

Well, I hadn’t attained the rank I had in Judo without iron determination and discipline. I steeled myself for dealing with you each day, unfailingly polite and yet distant. For a time (a short time) I could keep you at arm’s length. Then you started in with the innuendoes and subtle hints – you liked me, wanted me. The walls I’d built around myself kept me safe for a while. At first, I honestly didn’t get it. Pretty soon you kissed me and I was shocked speechless. I had ordered my world so carefully, specifically to avoid situations like this. And here you were, completely messing things up. The next day I lit into like you were the biggest hentai in the world, but quite frankly, I was scared out of my wits. I had worked so hard to become invisible and yet you had seen me quite clearly. This could never happen again.

You didn’t stop there, though, but continued to nudge me out of my comfort zone. You jumped me at every opportunity, backing me against walls and grabbing me in alleys. Your surprise attacks were affecting me, although I fought hard not to show it. What was going on wasn’t ‘normal’ or ‘traditional’, by any stretch of the imagination, but I wanted it – desperately.

I was back where I started, torn between what I wanted and what was ‘expected’ – and it was all your fault. So I made you pay the price again and again with my anger and rejection. I told myself you couldn’t possibly be serious about me – you were too direct and straightforward about your attraction - most likely you were just out to get laid. In the very beginning it was probably true, and it was easier to maintain the façade when I could believe that it was only lust you felt for me.

I could see it in your eyes when that changed, though, and I couldn’t dismiss you as easily anymore. I could feel it when you kissed me, when you held me. It started to chip away at the barrier I had placed between myself and the world. I stopped resisting quite so hard – started kissing you back – started allowing myself to enjoy it maybe just a little.

You do realize this is all about trust, don’t you Dee? I started to wonder if maybe I could trust you. My mother had always told me all of this, what you were doing to me – what we were doing together - was bad and wrong, and yet it all started to feel so right. Just by being your own crusty yet sweet self, you challenged all the poisonous attitudes my mother had instilled. And even though occasionally I’ve really had to fight you off - time and again, when it has really mattered, you’ve come through with flying colors. That night when Penguin had been injured and we were in your apartment is a perfect example. You were so upset, I would have let you do anything to me just so you could forget for a while. You had me right where you wanted, and yet you stopped. I know you sensed that you could have taken things further, but you controlled yourself. I couldn’t believe it! For you, it was very simple though: I wasn’t really ready and you didn’t want to take advantage. That was so honorable – and so sweet – I think that’s when I first consciously questioned the shit my mother had fed me all my life.

That’s when I first thought that maybe I could love you.

I am shaken from my reverie as you violently turn again (how else can one turn on that monstrous sofa). I realize that I’ve been stroking my fingers lightly over the dark hair on your muscled forearm. Now you’re facing me, pulling the blanket up over your shoulder. I leap back and land hard on my backside as your arm flops out, missing my nose by mere inches.

Enough.

I can’t afford for you to wake up and find me here. I scoot back quietly until I’m out of your reach, then climb to my feet and tiptoe back to my room. I peek at you one last time before closing the door. I’m humiliated that I’m reduced to pawing you when you’re asleep. If only I felt safe enough to face you awake. Your kisses and caresses promise everything I’ve ever wanted, but I know I can only have you if I can overcome the demons of my past.

Please be patient, Dee. Please give me the time I need to conquer my fears. I want you more than you could possibly imagine. Maybe someday I’ll be able to make it all up to you.

I look forward to it.

 

***********

 

As soon Dee heard the bedroom door shut, he started chuckling softly to himself. If only he could have ‘seen’ Ryo fall on his ass – it was funny enough hearing it. Dee’s merriment soon subsided and he heaved a sigh of happy frustration – Ryo had done it again! Over the past few months, Ryo had developed the naughty habit of ‘visiting’ Dee in the middle of the night whenever he slept over.

The first time it had happened, Dee was gently awakened by warm fingers trailing down his back. He was curious as to just how far Ryo would take it, so Dee pretended he was still asleep. Although Ryo didn’t do much more than touch his back and run his fingers through his unruly hair, Dee didn’t know how he kept himself from turning over, grabbing Ryo right then, and ravishing him – but he controlled himself. After Ryo had slithered back to his room, Dee spent a long time awake, trying to figure out what that was all about.

The next day at work, Dee went out of his way to test Ryo’s reaction to him. Ryo didn’t treat him any differently, in fact he was especially nasty. Dee’s only response was a small grin. He held the previous night’s visit close to his heart and hoped for a repeat performance.

He got his wish.

At first it was only once in a while. It was like Ryo could only keep himself from doing it for so long – a week, maybe two – then Dee would feel him at his side again, touching him gently, almost reverently for a little while before creeping away. The visits became more frequent as time went on. Now they were happening almost every time Dee was there.

Dee eagerly looked forward Ryo’s appearance, and was disappointed when he didn’t show up. In fact, the ‘I’m-moaning-in-my-sleep-because-I-could-be-having-a-nightmare’ sounds Dee had made tonight were done to ensure Ryo’s arrival. Dee had actually awakened the moment he’d heard Ryo’s bedroom door open. He just loved the way Ryo touched him when he thought he was asleep – like he couldn’t get enough of him.

The thing that drove Dee nuts, though, was that Ryo rarely seemed to thaw when they were together during the day. Oh, there were cracks in the ice – tender looks now and then, a stolen kiss here and there, maybe even an actual make-out session once in a great while – but Ryo was still pretty much keeping his distance. In fact, before Ryo began his little nocturnal… umm… explorations, Dee had started considering backing off for good. A man could only take so much teasing, and Dee had just about reached the end of his rope.

With the advent of Ryo’s strange and beguiling nighttime ritual though, Dee found reserves of patience that he didn’t know he possessed. Although Dee didn’t know what it was, he knew something from Ryo’s past had caused him to be incredibly inhibited – almost paralyzed - when it came to his feelings for other men. Dee thought this was tragic, since it had always been painfully obvious to him right from the start that Ryo was gay. There was something about what Ryo was doing now – these visits - that felt like therapy to Dee. It was like Ryo was trying to work things out. And if Ryo was working this hard to overcome his fears, then Dee must mean something to him, after all.

Dee had faith that Ryo would eventually untangle himself from whatever it was that kept him bound. And when he did, Dee knew he would be waiting for him.

 

 

End.

**Author's Note:**

> I originally posted this story on FF.net waaaaay back in 2004. It's kind of been MIA for a while, but now that I've started writing again, I wanted to re-post my earlier works.
> 
> Disclaimer: FAKE and its characters belong to Sanami Matoh.


End file.
